These heads were yet another proof that she knew very little of him. She reasserted control of the chattering crowd. Selucia Voiced, “You will silence yourselves.”
The room fell still, though the Blood and the sul’dam still looked very disturbed. Tylee still knelt, head bowed, the soldier who had borne the heads kneeling beside her. Yes, she would have to be thoroughly questioned.
“This news changes little,” Selucia Voiced. “We were already aware that the Last Battle approaches. We appreciate Lieutenant-General Tylee’s revelations. She is to be commended. But this only makes it more urgent that we subdue the Dragon Reborn.”
There were several nods from those in the room, including General Galgan. Beslan did not seem so quickly persuaded. He just looked troubled.
“If it pleases the Highest Daughter,” Tylee said, bowing.
“You are allowed to speak.”
“These last few weeks, I have seen many things that have given me thought,” Tylee said. “Even before my troops were attacked, I was worried. The wisdom and grace of the Highest Daughter undoubtedly let her see further than one such as I, but I believe that our conquests so far in this land have been easy compared to what might come. If I may be so bold . . . I believe that the Dragon Reborn and those associated with him may make better allies than enemies.”
It was a bold statement. Tuon leaned forward, lacquered nails clicking on the armrests of her chair. Many of the low Blood would be so in awe at meeting one of the Empress’s household, much less the Highest Daughter, that they would not dare speak. Yet this woman offered suggestions? In direct opposition to Tuon’s published will?
“A difficult decision is not always a decision where both sides are equally matched, Tuon,” Selucia said suddenly. “Perhaps, in this case, a difficult decision is one that is right, but requires an implication of fault as well.”
Tuon blinked in surprise. Yes, she realized. Selucia is my Truthspeaker now. It would take time to accustom herself to the woman in that role. It had been years since Selucia had corrected or reproved her in public.
And yet, meeting with the Dragon Reborn, in person? She did need to contact him, and had planned to. But would it not be better to go to him in strength, his armies defeated, the White Tower torn down? She needed him brought to the Crystal Throne under very controlled circumstances, with the understanding that he was to submit to her authority.
And yet . . . with Seanchan in rebellion . . . with her position here in Altara barely stabilized . . . Well, perhaps some time to think—some time to take a few deep breaths and secure what she already had—would be worth delaying her strike on the White Tower.
“General Galgan, send raken to our forces in Almoth Plain and eastern Altara,” she said firmly. “Tell them to hold our interests, but avoid confrontation with the Dragon Reborn. And reply to his request for a meeting. The Daughter of the Nine Moons will meet with him.”
General Galgan nodded, bowing.
Order must be brought to the world. If she had to do that by lowering her eyes slightly and meeting with the Dragon Reborn, then so be it.
Oddly, she felt herself wishing—once again—that Matrim were still with her
. She could have put his knowledge of this Rand al’Thor to good use in preparing for the meeting. Stay well, you curious man, she thought, glancing back at the balcony, northward. Do not dig yourself into trouble deeper than you can climb to freedom. You are Prince of the Ravens now. Remember to act appropriately.
Wherever it is you are.
CHAPTER 20
On a Broken Road
“Women,” Mat declared as he rode Pips down the dusty, little-used road, “are like mules.” He frowned. “Wait. No. Goats. Women are like goats. Except every flaming one thinks she’s a horse instead, and a prize racing mare to boot. Do you understand me, Talmanes?”
“Pure poetry, Mat,” Talmanes said, tamping the tabac down into his pipe.
Mat flicked his reins, Pips continuing to plod along. Tall three-needle pines lined the sides of the stone roadway. They’d been lucky to find this ancient road, which must have been made before the Breaking. It was mostly overgrown, the stones shattered in many places, large sections of the roadway just . . . well, just gone.
Sapling pines had begun to sprout at the sides of the roadway and between rocks, miniature versions of their towering fathers above. The path was wide, if very rough, which was good. Mat had seven thousand men with him, all mounted, and they’d been riding hard in the little under a week they’d spent traveling since sending Tuon back to Ebou Dar.
“Reasoning with a woman is impossible,” Mat continued, eyes forward. “It’s like . . . Well, reasoning with a woman is like sitting down to a friendly game of dice. Only the woman refuses to acknowledge the basic bloody rules of the game. A man, he’ll cheat you—but he’ll do it honestly. He’ll use loaded dice, so that you think you’re losing by chance. And if you aren’t clever enough to spot what he’s doing, then maybe he deserves to take your coin. And that’s that.
“A woman, though, she’ll sit down to that same game and she’ll smile, and act like she’s going to play. Only when it’s her turn to throw, she’ll toss a pair of her own dice that are blank on all six sides. Not a single pip showing. She’ll inspect her throw, then she’ll look up at you and say, ‘Clearly I just won.’
“Now, you’ll scratch your head and look at the dice. Then you’ll look up at her, then down at the dice again. ‘But there aren’t any pips on these dice,’ you’ll say.
“ ‘Yes there are,’ she’ll say. ‘And both dice rolled a one.’
“ ‘That’s exactly the number you need to win,’ you’ll say.
“ ‘What a coincidence,’ she’ll reply, then begin to scoop up your coins. And you’ll sit there, trying to wrap your head ’bout what just happened. And you’ll realize something. A pair of ones isn’t the winning throw! Not when you threw a six on your turn. That means she needed a pair of twos instead! Excitedly, you’ll explain what you’ve discovered. Only then, do you know what she’ll do?”